194 
THF POETRY OF FLOWER*. 
TO THE DAISY. 
BT WORDSWORTH. 
In youth from rock to rock I went 
I rom hill to hill in discontent 
Of pleasure high and turbulent, 
Most pleased when most uneasy; 
But now my own delights I make, 
My thirst at every rill can slake, 
And nature’s love of thee partake, 
Her much-loved daisy! 
Thee winter in the garland wears 
I hat thinly decks his few gray hairs 
Spring parts the clouds with softest air** 
That she may sun thee ; 
Whole summer-fields are thine by right • 
And Autumn, melancholy wight ' 
Doth in thy crimson head'delight 
When rains are on thee. 
Be violets in their secret mews 
The flowers the wanton zephyrs choose ; 
Proud be the rose, with rains and dews 
Her head impearling; 
